Double Down (14 page)

‡‡‡

The world slowed for Patrick O'Brien, and in the next few seconds he saw a montage of his life. His painful upbringing, his brother's death, the unceasing loneliness he carried, the colossal crashing sound of his broken heart made manifest as violence. He had to kill to make it better, destroy lives to ease the pain, inflict mass terror in order not to feel the crushing weight of his own. Then, in the midst of his memories, he saw Gabriella's face, heard her laugh, her low, accented voice . . . and he began to shake with sobs. When Gabriella had come into his life a light had shone upon him. It could have been so different . . . he could have lived a normal life with her . . . if she'd only stopped looking into his past . . . “Gabriella, my love, forgive me!” he exclaimed. He threw his phone down next to him, and took a picture of Gabriella out of his shirt pocket. Then he pulled a gun out from behind his back and pointed it at his own head.

‡‡‡

“Not so fast, Baba Samka,” Susannah said. “You can't rob us of this.” With that, she fired a bullet straight through his heart. Patrick collapsed on the bed, the picture of Gabriella falling out of his hand. Chas echoed with shots of his own. There, on the small twin bed in a pool of blood, lay the archvillain they'd all pursued for years, looking not like a criminal mastermind but like a very ordinary man. And it looked like he had come to a fitting end. When they were certain their antagonist had gasped his last breath, Susannah grabbed Chas and said, “Let's get the fuck outta here, Tex. I'm not dying before you marry me.”

“Damn right, Legs. Let's blow the joint before it blows us.”

They ran down the stairs, out the front door, and into the chaos of the cordoned-off street mere seconds before the whole place was detonated in a series of back-to-back explosions.

‡‡‡

The Boss was nearly at the door when Chas and Susannah emerged. They all ran back to Fritz together, narrowly avoiding debris as the explosions began. “Well?” asked the Boss, shouting above the noise of the building and the chaos in the street. “Is it over?”

“Yes, Bossman, it's all done,” Chas said, pulling Susannah to him. “Legs got him straight through the heart.”

She gave Chas a quick kiss, then turned back to the Boss. “He locked himself in his brother's old room and told us the place was about to blow. We broke in and I took him down. We only had a couple of minutes, but he didn't put up much of a fight. I think his heart was too broken. We didn't have the time to get much intel except for this: It looks like he was the one who ordered Gabriella's death.”

“Wait a minute,” Fritz said. “He was the one who called the hit? But wasn't he involved with her?”

“Appears that way,” Susannah replied.

“So she knew who he was,” the Boss said. “But for a while—or so Tyka said when we were all being held in the basement—Gabriella merely thought he worked for the CIA.”

“Right,” Susannah replied, “but she did figure out who he was at some point—and he had to kill her for it. Regardless, it sounds like he really loved her—like he was tortured by his choice. We'll have to ask Tyka more about what she found by the Unisphere. But one thing is sure, Bossman: Gabriella was the love of his life.”

“And he of hers,” Tyka said. She and Mahmoud had just joined them, and the Boss noted the tears in their eyes and their clasped hands. “She was torn, Bossman,” Tyka went on, “between her love for him and her growing knowledge of who he was. And in the end, though he loved her, he killed her for it. I can't comprehend it all.”

“But how did Gabriella fall for such a strange man? And such a dangerous one?” Mahmoud asked. “That's what doesn't make sense to me.”

“At first it didn't to me, either,” Tyka said, gazing up at him, “but now I think it does.”

“Explain.”

“For those of us with no real family . . . well . . .” She looked awkward, the Boss noted, for the first time since he'd known her. “When we fall in love, we love for life. When we choose our family, it cannot be broken. Not by anything. I understand this now, and I understand why it was that she was so conflicted. I always thought it had to do with her work, with being a spy within her own family . . . but I was wrong. Robert Smith was her instructor, her friend, but also he was her
chosen
family, and she didn't have any other. Except for me. There were parts of her I never understood, and I know I never will.”

“Nor will any of us,” Fritz agreed. “More will be revealed, I think, at a later time. First, though, let's make sure this is really over and done. I'll be back.” She stepped away to suss out where the firefighters were in containing the flames and what they had found.

“She's right,” the Boss said as she left. “We'll understand more as we process all this. But for now, thank you, Tyka and Mahmoud, for spearheading the last leg of this journey.”

“It was our pleasure,” Mahmoud said with a smile. “Cheers to you, John, and to the whole Bod Squad.”

“Yes,” the Boss agreed, filled with pride. His agents were the best in the business, and had taken down a criminal mastermind before even more damage was done. Susannah and Chas, Tyka and Mahmoud, AJ and Fritz, Jackson and Lisa Bee . . . they were worth their weight in gold. “Cheers to us all.”

‡‡‡

About six hours later the fire had been put out and the house had been searched. They had found Patrick O'Brien's body in the room that had been his brother's. All the members of the Bod Squad wearily made their way out: the Boss back to D.C. to find Babs; Susannah and Chas to an emergency care center near Quantico to meet Janice, who was at Buzz's side; Mahmoud and Tyka to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore to meet Jackson and Lisa Bee. They'd already gotten a call saying Jackson was going to be fine, he'd just need some time to recuperate. They'd done surgery at a local Queens hospital, then flown Jackson down to Baltimore to be taken care of by a specialist closer to home. The Boss said he'd rendezvous with them at Johns Hopkins first thing in the morning.

Left at the scene were Fritz and Rafael, assembled firefighters, and a handful of FBI operatives there to search the wreckage of the house. They'd begin the search now and leave no stone unturned, hoping to find all the missing pieces and solve a handful of cases at once. The only real disappointment, they all agreed, was Baba Samka's death: Now they had no one to hold accountable for such a long list of heinous crimes. But at least he had been taken down by one of their own. That was vindicating, and satisfying to some degree. At the moment it seemed the impossible had happened. They'd solved one of the greatest cases ever known and could put this all behind them.

‡‡‡

Jackson was propped up in a hospital bed when Tyka and Mahmoud came to see him. He'd been waiting for them in great spirits, feeling like he had a new lease on life. Jackson gave them the keys to his apartment and said he would stay with Lisa Bee whenever he was released. He had a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face:
All is
right with the world
, he thought. Baba Samka was dead, Mahmoud had finally found someone, and Lisa Bee was going to be Jackson's partner in crime for all eternity.
Yes,
he thought,
all is now made well. Life, death, rebirth. Circle of life, baby.

‡‡‡

Tyka and Mahmoud wound up back at Jackson's bachelor pad, exhausted but happy. They'd ended the manhunt they'd been on for years, a manhunt they hadn't even quite understood. Independently they'd both been tracking the same criminal, and now, finally, they could rest. They undressed in silence, depleted, and got into the bed in Jackson's spare room, a small space furnished with old beer ads and rodeo memorabilia. Jackson called it his man cave, but they couldn't have cared less. There, in the small, comfortable room, under the glow of a Session Beer sign, they held each other and wept. The world was safe again. The death of their loved ones had been avenged. And they had found each other, as anchors in the midst of it.

For the first time in years they both slept peacefully, wrapped in each other's arms. And when the sun began to rise, and birds chirped out their morning songs, they gently and passionately made love. This was the new world they were in: It was filled with light and hope, with possibility and triumph, with opportunity and joy. The smile on Tyka's face was as bright as the morning sun and was reflected in duplicate on Mahmoud's. Yes, it was true. The world was their oyster, and it would be one heck of a feast. More than that, it would be, for all the world to see, an affair to remember.

Epilogue

It was Christmas in Savannah, and the now
thrice
-attempted wedding had finally happened. Chas and Susannah had tied the knot on Chas's ranch in a beautiful, simple, and touching ceremony, lovingly officiated by the Boss. The weather was cool but beautiful, and though the wedding was small, everyone who needed to be there was there: Susannah and Chas were radiant in simple, elegant clothes; Janice and Buzz stood together glowing with joy; Jackson used a distinguished-looking walking stick with a bronze mermaid upon the handle and Lisa Bee wore a muted 1950s-style pink poodle skirt; AJ looked fabulous and swanky in a teal silk pantsuit that she'd once worn to the opening of the Cannes Film Festival, and had Antonio, the agent she'd met at Quantico, on her arm. Even the infamous Doc Scrubs was there . . . as dapper, suave, and charming as all of them had hoped. Fritz and Rafael had come together as colleagues, and it was the first time anyone had seen Fritz dressed to the nines and ready to dance. Lastly, Mahmoud and Tyka were a standout pair, he in an exquisite bespoke Armani suit, she in a long forest-green silk gown by Donna Karan. Tyka was not one for dressing up, and when she and Mahmoud arrived everyone gasped in awe, then laughed with delight at how Mahmoud couldn't take his eyes off her. Tyka was again a member of the Bod Squad; though she had temporarily removed herself after Gabriella's death, she had jumped back in with both feet after the end of Baba Samka. The Boss was only too happy to have her back as a member of his team.

Now they were done with the ceremony and with dinner, and were all relaxed and happy. They had spread out around tables set up in the great room of the house Chas had spent summers and school breaks in. The Boss looked around at the collected crowd with a great deal of pride. He stood up, clinked his spoon on the rim of a glass, and prepared to make yet another toast, his fifth of the evening.

“One more, Bod Squad, and then I'm done.” They all groaned in unison. “I know, I know. But I want one final toast. We all deserve it. This has been a long road, and we've risen to every challenge along the way. Susannah, Jackson, and Lisa Bee . . . I've worked with you for a long time, and over the course of the last six months, I feel like I've seen you grow up. You've pushed me to a new level, and I admire you all. You have proved that the student often becomes the teacher, and it is my deepest privilege to now learn from you as well. Mahmoud, Tyka, and AJ, I'm honored to know you, and to call you my colleagues. You are a fighting force to be reckoned with, and the very best in your fields.
Salud! Cin cin! Santé!
Doc Scrubs, you've been my secret weapon since we were kids and continue to be indispensable. And lastly, Fritz: I am ever in your debt. Forgive me for taking so long to be the undercover that you've believed me to be. It is said in the community that it takes twenty years to become the agent you are born to be, but in our case, it's only taken us the last six months. Bravo to you all! You make me proud to call myself the Boss.” He looked out over the faces to see smiles and tear-filled eyes. Everyone responded with a vibrant “Cheers!” and applause. And at that moment, the door opened and in walked Babs.

There was an inquisitive silence and a few murmurs. Babs looked over them all, then walked up to the Boss and kissed him firmly on the mouth. “I'm ready to meet your team, Johnny,” she said with a smile, then turned to the crowd. “Well, whaddaya know? Your boss ain't as much of a bachelor as you think. I'm Babs, by the way. And I hope you'll be seeing a lot more of me.”

“Awesome,” Jackson said, amusement in his voice. “You look like the kind of chick who can keep the Boss in line.”

“Oh, she does do that,” the Boss said with a smile. “More than you can imagine.” He looked at Babs and suddenly couldn't speak. He had invited her, but hadn't thought she'd show. Now that she had, he didn't quite know how to react. There was an awkward silence, then AJ put her jazz mix back on. “How 'bout we show 'em how it's done, Agent X?” she asked, turning to Antonio.

“Don't mind if I do,” he said in a low voice that rumbled like a jazz singer. “Let's all get our dance on.”

‡‡‡

The dancing continued long into the night. At one point, Tyka and Mahmoud left to go look at the horses. The truth was, Tyka was dying to be alone with him, and Mahmoud couldn't keep his hands off her. In the cool moonlight of the Savannah winter they exchanged vows of fidelity, and then, in the hayloft above the stable, Mahmoud gently lifted up her green silk dress and made love to her. Their moans of passion were masked by the far-off sounds of the party and the gentle neighing of the horses. When they were finished they lay together, his arms around her, her head on his chest. “Thank you, Mahmoud,” she said.

He turned her face up so he could look her in the eyes. “For what?” he asked. “I do not understand why you thank me.”

“For showing me my heart and holding it in your hands.”

He smiled as he looked down at her. “I should be so lucky for this to be my life.”

“And it is,” she said with a giddy laugh. “It is.”

‡‡‡

When Tyka and Mahmoud got back to the party, everyone was still there, but lounging drowsily by the fire, or dancing slowly to a jazz ballad. A package had been delivered to Chas and Susannah by courier while Tyka and Mahmoud were out, and the Boss and Babs were trying to puzzle out what it was. The box seemed to hold a set of blank business cards. “Odd,” the Boss was saying. “What on earth could the point of this be? Chas and Susannah, any ideas?”

The newlyweds had their arms around each other and had spent the evening over the moon with joy. Chas laughed. “Unless it's a set of fine lingerie, I'm not interested.”

“Oh, Chas,” Susannah said with a smile, “when you see what I got at Journelle . . .”

“I don't know what that is,” he said, “but I can't wait.”

Now Jackson and Lisa Bee made their way over. “Maybe it's invisible ink,” Jackson said with a grin. “We should heat the paper. Better yet, we should dunk it in champagne! Might be a cheerier message.”

“We should dunk you in champagne,” Mahmoud said, giving his friend a pat on the back, “and see what it reveals.”

“I think it would say something like
All Man
,” Jackson said with a laugh.

“I don't think that's a joke,” Lisa Bee said. “You're all man to me.”

Everyone mockingly said, “Awwww!” and Lisa Bee and Jackson shared a kiss. Just to prove his point, Jackson dropped one of the cards into a glass of champagne. It revealed nothing, and everyone laughed. “This isn't a James Bond movie, Jackson,” the Boss said with a snicker, Babs close by. “But I like the idea. Maybe on our next job we'll bring back invisible ink.”

The party began to disperse. Everyone was staying at the ranch, so one by one they made their way out . . . Janice and Buzz first, then Susannah and Chas, and the others in turn. The only ones who remained in the great room were Tyka and Mahmoud, who decided to raise one more glass.

They drank their champagne. They talked, laughed, kissed. Then they, too, left to make love in their beautiful suite on the far side of the estate.

‡‡‡

It was about an hour after everyone had gone that something very strange occurred. There in the great room, scattered among the remnants of the evening, was the champagne glass with the card that had been dropped inside. There was a pop and a fizz and a gurgle that no one heard. When the bubbles cleared, a word could be seen clearly written on the card:

Casablanca